


From the Ashes

by Merzibelle



Series: Semper Fi [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:29:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merzibelle/pseuds/Merzibelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the first hours and days after the bombing, Tim McGee finds himself taking on a role he'd never anticipated. Meanwhile, Tony finally realizes just what Ziva means to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: NCIS is ©2003-2012 Belisarius Productions. Created by Donald P. Bellisario and Don McGill. Produced by Belisarius Productions in association with Paramount Television (2003–06), CBS Paramount Television (2006–09) and CBS Television Studios (2009–present). No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Warning: Referenced Character Deaths; Spoilers for NCIS S9x24 "Til Death Do Us Part"
> 
> Author's Notes: This story follows "The Unwritten Rule" and picks up almost immediately where that one left off. This is what I would like to see happen for season ten... which I know would never happen in canon, so consider this an alternate universe. 
> 
> Author's Note the Second: Some liberties have been taken with hospital protocols and security protocols. I know... don't yell... it makes good story and all is explained as we go. *smile*

**Chapter One**

  
_“You can stand down, Marine. I have the watch now.”_  
  
The last words he had heard before collapsing echoed through his mind as Timothy McGee awoke to soft beeps and the rustle of cloth. Slightly further away, he could hear the sound of people rushing about and someone shouted order. It took only a moment for him to realize he was in a hospital. The question was which one. Was he lucky enough to be at Bethesda where he knew his surviving teammates had been taken? He lay still, breathing very carefully, and listened closely to try to find hints as to which hospital he was in.   
  
Getting no clues from the noises outside, Tim cracked his eyes open and carefully scanned what he could see of the room he lay in. An IV snaked its way down to his elbow. A monitor was clipped to one finger. Nothing really unexpected considering the situation. The wrap around his ribs felt different, denser, so he assumed they’d been rebandaged on his arrival. Just on the edge of his vision, a young man in Marine dress blues stood at attention just inside his room. That sight brought him both fully awake and almost vertical. “Who the hell are you?”  
  
“As civilian services are stretched thin, the Commandant has assigned me as your lead PSD, sir.”  
  
“Don’t call me sir.” The protest was automatic, learned from his boss. Why in the hell was the Commandant of the Marine Corps assigning him a Personal Security Detail. Tim blinked several times as his mind struggled to catch up with events. He pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat there, head in his hands, and forced himself to recall everything. “Why am I getting protection?”  
  
“You’re the star of the hour, McGee.” Ron Sacks sauntered into the room. Behind him, Tim could see a similarly dressed Marine standing just outside the door. “We couldn’t keep your actions out of the news. So, protection...”  
  
“And not Secret Service or FBI because...?”  
  
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask about NCIS.”  
  
“Most of our local people are dead or injured, Sacks.” Tim lifted his head and glared at the FBI agent. “The rest are likely held up by travel delays trying to get here or are assigned afloat. So, again, why not Secret Service or FBI.”  
  
“We’re busy trying to find everyone who helped Dearing. Now that he’s in custody, we found some of his records and it’s a veritable who’s who. Secret Service upped their own protectees details and are assisting us.” Sacks dropped down into the visitor’s chair with a tired sigh. Only then did Tim realize just how exhausted the man looked. “Plus, for some reason, the Commandant’s taken a shine to you.”  
  
“Marines respect those who do their duty in hazardous circumstances.” He shrugged, flinching slightly as he moved, and levered himself to his feet. He considered Sacks for a moment before deciding to consciously copy his father’s manner. Tim shifted his attention to the Marine still standing in the room. He might not like it, would in fact soon hate this, but if the Commandant deemed him to need protection, he wasn’t going to countermand the orders yet. He drew a single deep breath to steady himself before he consciously gave an order to the man. “I need to speak to my physician before locating my teammates.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
Tim watched as the Marine pivoted in place before stepping out the door to confer with his counterpart outside. A soft chuckle from Sacks had him glancing over at the other agent in question. “What?”  
  
“You adapt quick.”  
  
“I’m channeling my father. Who, by the way, will never let me live down that a McGee is being protected by Marines.” Tim leaned back against his bed and rested his hands on it. “I’m the son of an Admiral, Sacks. I know what it means to be protected. I don’t like it. I’m going to protest to the higher ups as soon as I can, but I do know what it means.”  
  
“That’s good to know, sir.” His Marine walked back into the room holding the door open for Tony’s personal doctor, Brad Pitt, to follow him inside. He continued to hold the door while looking pointedly in Sacks direction. Tim decided to spare everyone any continuing awkwardness.  
  
“Go, Sacks.” He pointed at the door. “Get some rest. You look half dead.” Tim waited until Sacks started out the door before he called after him. “Ron... thanks for what you did today.”  
  
A nod answered him. Tim understood why there were no words exchanged between them now. They were members of the ArmFed – family of sorts – and when one is harmed, all are harmed. Tim made a mental note to check up on Sacks in a couple of days. He waited for the door to close behind him before shifting his attention to Brad. He still remembered one of those unwritten rules his father taught him back when he was a teenager and chafing at being protected: the PSD do their job best by being ignored. “So, how am I and how’s the team?”  
  
Brad looked pointedly at the Marine who’d donned that classic ‘I am not here’ look that all Marines seemed to prefect at some point in their careers. Tim chuckled and tapped Brad’s shoulder to get his attention back. “Pretend he’s not here. He won’t repeat anything he hears. It’s a violation of the ethics of a PSD to do so. If I remember correctly, the Personal Security Details always know the best gossip yet never say a word even under the most creative tortures devised by willful eight year olds.”  
  
“Eight year olds?” Brad pointed at the bed in silent order. “Let me check your vitals then I’ll explain everything.”  
  
“My sister.” Tim almost laughed but held his ribs as they protested. He settled on the gurney and nodded to Brad. “She knew, from hearing Mom talk to the other ladies on base, that the details knew things. She tried everything she could to get them to talk to her. You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen a PSD stoically standing there doing his duty while draped in pink crepe paper and silly string.”  
  
A muffled chuckle escaped Brad but it was the eyes only grin from his own detail which brought a smile to Tim’s lips. He knew then that the story of his sister’s tortures had made the rounds as had his father’s punishments for his daughter. Once he had realized that he couldn’t ditch the detail and that they wouldn’t gossip about anything he did as long as he obeyed their instructions, Tim had come to enjoy the protection from bullies their presence provided. Losing the detail on going to MIT had been a shock to his system. Of course, during those years the detail had been Navy enlisted men. He knew the Marines were even more focused on their jobs.  
  
“All right, Tim.” Brad’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “Bruised and fractured ribs on your left side. Several deep bruises including one that if it gets darker or you have any additional pain from I want to see you again. And you’ve wrenched your left shoulder.”   
  
“What bruise?”  
  
“Here.” Brad’s fingers pressed once against a particular spot on Tim’s upper left thigh. He yelped in pain and clenched his hands tightly. “It’s directly in line with the surgical scars you have there.”  
  
“I didn’t break it again, did I?”  
  
“No.” Brad shook his head and tossed the folder in his hand down beside Tim. “Very badly bruised all the way down to the bone but no breaks or fractures. If it worsens...”  
  
“I know the drill, Brad.”  
  
“Thought you might.” Brad tapped the folder with one finger. “Discharge papers already signed. Also, notes on your teammates. Tony is in Ziva’s room in ICU. Gibbs is still in surgery but will be in ICU soon.” The doctor paused for a moment. “I’m sorry about Abby. I know you were close.”  
  
“Thank you.” Tim nodded once. He couldn’t allow himself to mourn Abby yet. Unless something changed drastically, he was the senior-most member of NCIS based on rank rather than tenure, and had to manage the agency until someone was appointed to take over for him. Instead, he focused on his team. Once he knew how they were, he could make some decisions on how to proceed. “How are they?”  
  
“I shouldn’t...”  
  
“Brad.” One word but he put all of his newly found strength and courage into it. He’d learned how to command first from his father and then from Gibbs. “Tell me.”  
  
“Tony’s on cautionary breathing treatments because of dust. We don’t need him developing problems with his scarred lungs.” Brad gathered up the folder and flipped it open. “Ziva’s in an induced coma while she’s assessed but she has broken ribs, several fractured vertebra, and possible partial paralysis.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“Yeah. Not good with her. We all know she’s going to chafe at being forced to be still.” Brad nodded his agreement. “As for Gibbs, he arrived conscious but barely responsive. He has a closed head injury with minor brain swelling. That will be treated with drug therapy unless it worsens. Both legs are broken in multiple locations as is one hip. Truthfully, based on what I was told of his rescue and location in the building, he’s damned lucky to be alive.”  
  
“Gibbs won’t see it that way.” Tim hopped down from the gurney again and held his hand out to Brad. He glanced down at the combination of dusty black jeans and scrub top he wore and shrugged. It would do until he could get home and change into something else. “All he’ll see is that his surrogate daughter died instead of him.”  
  
“Which will make his recovery more difficult.”  
  
“I know. I’ll get through to him.” He accepted the folder and glanced around the room. “Where is my backpack and jacket?”  
  
“Here, sir.”   
  
His Marine opened a small closet Tim hadn’t noticed before and retrieved both items from within. He held them out to Tim.   
  
“Thanks.” Tim slipped on the jacket and draped the bag over his good shoulder. “We’re going to ICU first before anything else. I need to check on my team.” He started toward the door then stopped to look back at Brad. “Brad? Do they know to tell me about Gibbs?”  
  
“Already set up. I’ll be up soon to check on Tony. I have a few patients to deal with here first.”  
  
“Thanks.” Tim headed out the door and paused by the Marine, no, Marines, stationed outside. He looked at the three men and sighed tiredly. “All right. I know why I’m stuck with you. I don’t like it. I’m an armed Federal agent used to protecting myself. I’m going to bitch about this a lot for a while.” He gave all three a faint smile. “One of you find me a secure cell phone. I need it asap. I’m headed for ICU.” With that, he strolled off toward the elevator. He had a ‘brother’ to reassure and a ‘father’ to slap some sense into before he could take up his next duties.


	2. Chapter 2

Anthony DiNozzo bit back a groan of pain as he shifted in the chair. It wasn’t the most comfortable chair nor the most comfortable position as he had to keep his splinted leg elevated at all times to try to reduce the swelling. Settled again, he threaded his hand through the side rail of Ziva’s bed. He stroked the back of her hand before closing his fingers around it. She was cold. So cold and still. His ninja was never this still. Always moving, always so alive. He looked up from their hands to consider the monitors over her bed. Each soft beep reassured him she was still with him, still alive. He hadn’t lost his chance with her.

“I should have followed my gut last night, _gattina_.” Tony rubbed his thumb in circles across her palm. “Ignored the case, ignored everything but that moment of connection. Taken you away... made you mine...”

“I know, Ziva.” He shook his head with a tired sigh. “You don’t have to say it. Not that you could right now what with the ventilator and the... but you know what I mean. We’re too dedicated to the job, too damned honorable, to walk out in the middle of a case like this. Now look at us.”

“Do you remember what I told you in that desert?” He shifted in the chair again until he could rest his cheek on the rail. He turned his head to watch her. Just watching her take each breath was as reassuring as the beeps echoing from her heart monitor. “I told you I couldn’t live without you. I tried... when you left us... I tried again when we got you back... to give you space, let you find your own way...” He trailed off and reached up with his free hand to lift a strand of hair out of her face. He tucked it away behind her ear. “Even tried to be happy when I learned Ray was going to propose... you’d still be there. Still be my partner, my friend, but Ziva...” He closed his eyes tightly for a moment. His fingers briefly tightened on her hand. “I was wrong then. It’s not couldn’t. I _can’t_ live without you. So, don’t you dare give up. Don’t you dare leave me.”

“I don’t know how it works in your religion, my Ninja, but I know how it works in mine. When you’re awake again, able to glare at me, I’ll do this again. Need to do it though... you may not hear me, but...” Tony swallowed down his emotions. He couldn’t break down. Not now. Not for a while, possibly a long while; he had to be strong for her. She’d been so strong, so determined, for so long. Now it was his turn to be the strong one in their long convoluted relationship. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. He reached across the bed to clasp her other hand in his as well. “I, Anthony Dante, will take you, Ziva bat Eli, to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

“You have a witness, if you need one, when she wakes up.”

The soft words caused him to jerk. Tony groaned in pain before lifting his head to glare half-heartedly at his Probie. “How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough.” Tim entered the room and gestured at the men behind him. He slid the glass door of the cubicle closed behind them. Tony hadn’t even realized it was open. “Tony do you...”

“Yeah, I do.” Tony looked down at Ziva and stroked her cheek again. “I had to, Tim. I can’t...”

“I know.” Tim crossed over and clasped his shoulder in one hand. “We’re all learning a few hard truths today.”

“How bad?” Tony knew it was bad. He’d seen the mess as they took him and Ziva to the ambulances but most of it didn’t register with him as he’d been so focused on their efforts to keep his ninja stable. “Our team... the director...”

“Bad.” Tim reached behind him for a chair and pulled it closer. He briefly clasped the closest part of Ziva, her ankle, in his hand. As Tony watched, Tim counted softly, almost inaudibly, and smiled before letting his hand drop. It reminded Tony that his Probie had a degree in biomedical engineering and likely understood more than he did about all this equipment. “The death toll is high. We were stupid. The SUV was right out front...”

“We sent everyone out the front during the evac.”

“Exactly. When it blew...”

“Shrapnel.” Tony nodded. It stood to reason that the explosion turned the car into deadly bits of shrapnel which killed or severely injured most of their colleagues. “What else?”

“Not only that but the collapse caught those still trying to get out. So...” 

Tim trailed off. Tony watched his eyes go unfocused. He knew that look. He’d seen it on his Probie’s face before when Tim started to get lost in memories. Tony doubted anyone other than him knew the significance of that look. He reached over and tapped Tim’s arm to get his attention back. 

“Right. Sorry.” Tim gave him an apologetic smile. “Vance is dead. I’m told he died on the table but they’d not expected him to even make it that far.”

“Guess Gibbs is in charge then.”

“Nope.” Tim shook his head once. “Gibbs is upstairs in surgery. They’re setting his legs and putting a plate in his pelvis to stabilize the fracture in it. Thought he’d broken his hip at first but it’s a break in his pelvis near the hip socket instead. He’ll be next door once that’s done.”

“Hell, Probie.” Tony rapidly ran through the available personnel by rank and then stared from Tim to the door of Ziva’s room and back. “You?”

“Yeah.” Tim sighed and shoved a shaking hand through his hair. “Me. There’s more.”

Tony assessed Tim. His Probie was completely exhausted. His normally bright expressive green eyes were shadowed with grief. He sat mostly hunched over with one arm pressed against his chest, likely protecting his ribs, and yet here he was briefing Tony rather than getting some rest. Though he dreaded what was to come, he knew he had to ask the question. “What else?”

“When Ducky was called, he had a heart attack. Jimmy’s here. He’s acting chief medical examiner. Breena stayed with Ducky.” Tim rubbed at his eyes for a moment. A sigh escaped Tim. “They hastened their wedding in an attempt to get back and help but the explosion happened first.”

“I’ve noticed you’ve left one person out, Probie.” Tony said the words carefully. “Don’t tell me...”

“She’s dead, Tony.” Tim’s words were barely audible but confirmed his worse fears. His closest friend and adopted sister was dead. He felt like someone had torn something vital away. He dragged in a shaking breath and reached out to Tim. If he felt like this, then how was Tim feeling when they’d been even closer. Tony knew their affair had ended ages ago but he also knew Tim still had feelings for the Goth. “She died protecting Gibbs in the collapse.”

“Probie, I...”

“Don’t.” Tim shook his head and waved away the words. “I can’t think about it, Tony. Not now. Not if I want to function. I’ll deal with that later. I have to make the calls and then slap some sense into Gibbs when he’s out of surgery. I can’t mourn her!”

“Tim...”

“No.” 

The flat statement unnerved Tony for a moment. He looked into the younger man’s eyes for a long moment before nodding. “All right, Tim.” He agreed for now but resolved to watch over his Probie for the moment his emotions broke. “What do you need from me?”

“Personally? Just watch over Ziva and Gibbs. Stay here until they kick you out. I know you’re safe here.” Tim slowly levered himself to his feet. He swayed in place for a moment then steadied himself. “Professionally, I need your report of everything leading up to the explosions including why you two decided to take the elevator during the evacuation.” Tim closed his eyes for a moment, his lips moved as if he was running through a list of things he needed to do, and then he stared at Tony again. “And to listen when I lose it because of the politics.”

“You got it, Probie.” Tony nodded and barely laughed. “I’ll help you with those. I know all about’em.”

“I know you do.” Tim started for the door only to pause, turn back and return to Tony’s side. Tony sat there, stunned, as Tim bent and hugged him tightly. He managed to bring one arm up and return the hug. A soft sniff reached his ear before Tim straightened again. “I’m glad you’re here... both of you are here...” 

“So am I, Probie.” Tony looked down over at Ziva again before looking up at Tim. “So am I.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: HaMossad leModi'in uleTafkidim Meyuchadim is the proper name for The Mossad. It means The Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations.

Tim took one last long look at Tony and Ziva. Tony had resumed his somewhat twisted position beside her bed. It couldn’t possibly be comfortable to sit like that, but Tim understood the need to be close to the one you loved. If it had been... Tim firmly forced that thought away and focused his attention on what needed to be done next. With a nod to his detail, he allowed them to lead him to a small break room near the ICU where he’d have privacy to make a phone call he’d promised to make only in the direst of circumstances.

He dropped down into a chair and let his head fall back against the wall. He stared blindly up at the ceiling for several minutes. He needed to be composed, controlled, when he made this call. Finally, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Steady again, Tim lifted the phone and slowly dialed the international number Ziva had him memorize more than a year ago after her tentative reconciliation with her father. 

_“HaMossad leModi'in uleTafkidim Meyuchadim...”_

“Malachi?... I mean, Officer Ben-Gidon?” Tim mentally slapped himself for the screw up. “It’s Agent Timothy McGee from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I need to speak to Director David if he’s available.”

_“And if he is not...?”_

“Then he’s more of a bastard then I ever thought.” He heard a soft creak in the background of the call. Combined with the faint echo of sound beneath the expected scratchiness of an international connection, Tim knew he was on a speaker phone. “I know all about bastard fathers who put their careers before their family, Malachi. I hoped that Director David was a better man than my own father. If he can’t put his daughter first for once in his life, then hang up now. I’ll not even tell her I made this call.”

_“You presume much...”_

“No. I don’t. I know that if I was a father and my child worked for an agency which was just destroyed by a terrorist attack, I’d like to know as soon as possible whether she lived or died...”

_“You are correct, Director McGee.”_ There was a click on the line. Tim knew the phone had been picked up on the other end. He was now talking only to Eli David. _“Mossad has been unable to get any detailed information. Only news reports. Those are not...helpful.”_

“My apologies, Director.” Tim wanted to protest the title; he wasn’t officially the director of NCIS. Yet, he also knew exactly what his apparent counterpart was implying with the title. He really hoped it never came to that. He didn’t want his eventually promotion to the nice big office to be only because every other potential director was dead or retired from injuries. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Your daughter is in critical but stable condition at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. She’s been placed in an induced coma while her injuries are being assessed. She arrived at the hospital with broken ribs, a concussion, and several broken vertebra. The medical staff are waiting for the swelling around her spine to go down before deciding on how to stabilize the vertebra and make a final determination on if she has a spinal cord injury.”

_“Director McGee... Timothy...”_

“Tim.” Tim didn’t know how he felt about this conversation, but he knew enough of politics to know that being on a first name basis with the Director of Mossad gave him significant leverage in the District. “Please, just Tim.”

_“Then I am Eli.”_ There was a momentary pause. The sound was muffled but he could hear Hebrew being spoken. Tim suspected that Eli was issuing orders to Malachi. _“I will contact our Embassy and your State Department with my travel details. If NCIS has need of information or resources, HaMossad leModi'in uleTafkidim Meyuchadim is ready to assist. You need only to contact me.”_

“I...” Tim smiled though no one would see it. “Thank you, Eli. Please, let me know when you are scheduled to arrive. I’ll personally bring you to see Ziva.”

_“Of course.”_ More muffled conversation followed before Tim heard the same words Eli often used with Vance. _“Shalom, my friend.”_

“Shalom, Eli.” Tim hung up the call. He stared at the phone until it slipped from his fingers to land with a clatter on the table. “I can’t believe I did that.” 

Tim dropped his head into his hands. He’d just told off the Director of Mossad and lived to tell the tale. He’d been complimented by the Commandant of the Marine Corps. He was de facto Director of NCIS though apparently at least one foreign intelligence service was treating him as the de jure director. It was all on his shoulders now. He wasn’t certain he was ready. Still, until another took over, it was up to him. Tim wondered if this was why the Director’s office door was always closed, so he could regain his composure after things went awry.

Feeling as steady as he possibly could and desperate for a decent cup of coffee, Tim rose to his feet. He grabbed the phone from the table. He mentally ticked one more item off his list of things to do as he opened the door. With a nod to his detail, he tucked the phone in his pocket and headed off toward ICU. As he arrived at the unit, he saw Gibbs being shifted from one bed to another while his monitors were hooked up. Closer to him, Brad stood flipping through a chart. Tim looked from Gibbs’s room to Brad. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, he headed for the doctor first. “How is he?” 

“Physically, he’ll be fine in time. Make a full recovery.” Brad handed him a full coffee mug. A laugh escaped the doctor as Tim took a long drink and almost moaned at the taste of the contents. “Emotionally, mentally, he’s cut everyone off. He’s not spoken since he woke up in recovery. We got a couple of responses while he was coming out of anesthesia but he’s since shut down on us. That...”

“Is not good.” Tim took another drink of the coffee. It had to be doctor’s coffee and not vending machine stuff as it was too good for the norm at Bethesda. “All right. I’m ready. Lay it on me.”

“Compound fracture to the left femur. Fracture to the socket of the left hip. Both are stabilized with metal plates.” Brad tossed the folder down on the desk beside them. “Simple fracture of the right femur and a compression fracture to the right fibula and tibia.”

“Shit.” Tim set the coffee mug down and bowed his head. His medical knowledge told him it was going to be a very long recovery for his boss. He might not even be able to return to field duty. Knowing Gibbs, if he couldn’t resume his job as MCRT team leader, he’d permanently retire. “Anything else?”

“Considering where he was found and how long it took to find him, he’s in remarkably good shape. He does have a concussion but that’s to be expected.” Brad gave him a wan smile. The doctor looked as exhausted as Tim felt. “If we can get him to respond, he’ll recover. Otherwise...”

“Yeah, I know.” Tim nodded and clapped Brad on the shoulder. “Leave that to me.”

“Promise me you’ll get some real rest soon. You need it. Paperwork will still be there when you’re awake again.” Tim raised an eyebrow at the doctor who laughed softly at him. “I’m headed to the break room to take my own advice.”

“You have my word.” Tim watched Brad leave the unit before turning around to watch the activity in Gibbs’s room. One by one the nurses finished their work and left until there was just his assigned nurse there fussing over Gibbs until she too left. Tim stood there watching that room for several minutes. He shifted his glance over to Ziva’s and barely smiled at the scene inside. Now he knew why Brad had been there to meet him. Somehow, Brad had managed to get an additional bed placed in Ziva’s room for Tony who now slept in it beside her with one arm stretched out so he could still hold her hand. The smile remained on Tim’s face until he again looked at Gibbs’s room. He had to approach this in just the right way or he’d lose his mentor and sometime father figure. Straightening away from the nurses desk, Tim started toward Gibbs’s room. “Time to beard the lion in his den.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but it needed to break here for the sake of the story.

Tim stood for a moment in the doorway. For the first time in all the years of their working relationship, Gibbs looked his age. He looked and felt old to Tim. The commanding sense of presence which always surrounded Gibbs was gone. He was so diminished that if it wasn’t for the beep of the heart monitor and the occasional blink of his eyes, Tim would have thought him dead. He slid the door almost closed behind him as he entered. He reached for the visitor’s chair, turned and straddled it. 

“Hey Boss.” Tim bit his lip hard as he thought through his options. “You know, I never thought I’d have to say this to you. Figured if anyone was going to be in ICU it’d be me or Tony. Never expected I’d be visiting you in here again.”

“I know you, Boss. Despite what everyone at NCIS thinks, we’re more alike that you and Tony are... keep our emotions hidden, locked down, have to be in control so we can do our jobs.” He snorted a soft laugh. “Tony’s your heir for the team but I’m your legacy. I’m the one that someday you’re going to point to and say ‘I taught him everything’.”

“You have to be there, Boss. Be there for that moment. So...” Tim rose to his feet. He absently turned the chair back around while stepping closer to the bed. “You don’t have permission to die, Gibbs.”

“You aren’t allowed to die, Boss. You do and Abby’s sacrifice means nothing. You do and who will be there to encourage Tony? Who will be there to spoil his and Ziva’s children?” Tim saw Gibbs flinch. He knew he was making an impression on the man even if Gibbs wasn’t quite ready to accept the situation yet. “So, no, I’m not giving you permission to die, Leroy Jethro Gibbs.”

Another blink followed his words. Tim ducked his head with the faintest of smiles. “Do you have any idea what I’m going through, Boss? I’m the one who discovered where you were. I led rescue teams to all the survivors. I even managed to find Dearing. Still need to question him but Fornell’s currently sitting on him for me. Yeah, me. Seems they decided I’m in charge.”

“I’m in charge. I need to report to SecNav, make all those dreaded condolence calls, and somehow pull the remnants of NCIS together so our people don’t give up hope.” Tim scrubbed at his eyes with his hand. Just mentioning all he now had to deal with overwhelmed him. “I can’t do it alone, Boss. I need....”

“I need you to wake up properly, Boss. I need you to smack me upside the head and say ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself, McGee!’ I need to know your there. That I’m not alone...” Tim trailed off. He dropped back down into the chair. “She’s gone, Boss. She’s gone. Tony’s out of commission. Ziva’s hanging on by thread. You’re trying to die.” 

A broken sob escaped him. He crossed his arms on the side of Gibbs’s bed and leaned forward to rest his head on them. Tim struggled to hold back his emotions but it was becoming harder by the minute. “I need your help, Boss. I can’t do this. I’m not ready.”

Fingers stroked through his hair. Tim froze and barely breathed as the gentle stroking continued for a bit. Finally, a pain filled voice broke the silence of the room. “Seems you’re doing fine so far.” 

“Boss?” Tim barely lifted his head before that hand pressed him down again.

“Let it out, McGee.” A light, barely felt tap hit the back of his head. “No one here but you and me. Let it out.”


	5. Chapter 5

Morning came far too soon for Timothy McGee. One look at his apartment had his detail freaking out – subtly but still freaking out – so he’d packed his bags and his dog and allowed himself to be dragged off to more secure quarters. When he’d finally been allowed to relax, he’d crashed for several hours until the nightmares woke him. Awake and unwilling to go back to sleep, he’d typed up his formal report for SecNav, Homeland Security and the President before taking a long hot shower. Every inch of him ached, even his aches had aches, and his side and leg were an interesting rainbow of colors. He stood there, staring at himself in the mirror for several minutes, and finally limped his way to the closet to dress.

His meeting with SecNav that afternoon meant visiting the Pentagon. For the first time in his life, he wished he’d joined the military. They had it easy. This type of meeting would require formal dress but civilians... Giving himself a mental shake, Tim pulled out his black Armani suit. He paired it with his favorite dress shirt. Tony would look at him funny for the all black outfit broken only by the subtle deep green stripe in the shirt but it made him feel both powerful and in control. He’d need both for dealing with Jarvis.

Dressed, he draped his black overcoat over the end of the bed and grabbed up the folder which contained the printed version of his formal report on their most recent case and the subsequent explosion. He leaned a shoulder against the wall while reading over the report one final time. The dry words conveyed none of the fear and horror, pain and terror of those minutes and hours. Frustrated, Tim tossed the report on top of his coat. A single hard knock on his door seemed like a sign from heaven. He strode over, opened the door and chuckled softly. 

“You are a mind reader.” He accepted the coffee from the Marine leading his protection details and took a long drink. Ah, real coffee. He’d gotten addicted to this kind of coffee, strong and dark, while working with Gibbs. It was Marine coffee as opposed to the sweet fancy coffee shop stuff Tony drank. “Do you have a name? I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘hey you’ or ‘that Marine in charge’.”

“Staff Sergeant Mario Sandoval, Sir.” The Marine all but saluted him. 

“All right, Sandoval.” Tim nodded and finished off the coffee. Setting the cup aside, he slipped on his overcoat and grabbed the folder with his report. “I won't ask you to call me Tim. I know better than that. Just please stop with the sir.” He just barely smiled. He really didn’t feel like he’d earned his apparent rank as Director. “You probably know my schedule better than I do. Let's go.”

“There’s a car waiting outside, Agent McGee.”

A soft sigh slipped from Tim. That he could accept; he’d at least honestly earned the title of Special Agent. With a final nod, he swept from the room. A Lincoln town car waited out front of the guest quarters. He climbed in through the held open door and struggled with the urge to just take over and drive himself. Sandoval climbed into the front passenger seat. The other Marine into a car directly behind them. Once everyone was settled, they drove off toward the main gates leading out of Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling. 

The ride to the Pentagon was far too short for Tim’s nerves. It felt like he’d no sooner entered the car then it was pulling to a halt before the Concourse entrance across from the Pentagon metro stop. He started to reach for the door handle before softly cleared throat stilled his hand. A sigh slipped from him as he waited for the Marines to secure the area before allowing him out of the car. 

“I am so going to hate this.” Tim muttered the words as he climbed out. He started up the steps to the entrance as Sandoval fell in step behind him. “I suppose I’m not allowed to drive my Porsche for a while.”

“We’d prefer not, Agent McGee.”

“Then find some secure storage for it.” Tim snapped back. “The place I would store it during something like this just got blown up.”

“Already done, sir.”

Tim stopped at the entrance to allow Sandoval to proceed him. Once they’d cleared security, it took less than seven minutes to get from the entrance to the conference room where Secretary Jarvis was waiting for him. He stood at the door for a moment, bowing his head and closing his eyes tightly, then straightened and nodded to Sandoval. His Marine opened the door; the officer on the inside announced him. Tim strode in trying to project a confidence he didn’t really feel. His eyes scanned the room taking in the conference table and the people he needed to impress this morning.

Secretary Jarvis sat at the head of the table. To his left was Tom Morrow and Tobias Fornell representing the Department of Homeland Security with the Commandant of the Marine Corps finishing that side of the table. It was the odd shift of players to Jarvis’s right which surprised Tim. From where normally the Assistant Secretary of the Navy for Installations and Environment would have been seated, one of the Deputy Chiefs of Staff from the White House stared intently at him. The displaced Secretary was now one seat further down on the right but it was the man beside him, across from the Commandant, whose presence startled Tim. His father, Admiral James McGee, the one person he didn’t need to see if he wanted to remain calm and in control, was attending this conference. 

He tore his gaze from his father’s to meet Jarvis’s across the length of the table. He easily read the triumph in the SecNav’s eyes. And he knew. He knew exactly why his father had been invited to this meeting. It was no secret in the Navy that Tim had turned down a guaranteed space at the Naval Academy in favor of MIT or that he and his father hadn’t spoke in seven years. Tim set the folder on the table, slipped out of his coat and handed it to Sandoval. “Mr. Secretary... gentlemen...”

“Agent McGee.” Jarvis’s voice was pure slick politics. Nothing in the tone to show he’d tried to knock Tim off balance. “I believe you know everyone present.”

“I know everyone but the Deputy Chief, sir.” He took his seat and waited. He’d be damned if he’d allow Jarvis to have the upper hand. He’d learned from the best after all. Silence settled into the room. Several people shifted position in their chairs. Though he could just see Morrow and Fornell starting to smirk at him, Tim kept his full attention on the SecNav. As he’d thought, the SecNav broke first.

“Deputy Chief Daniel Bedford...” Jarvis’s voice rang with sarcasm. “Meet Timothy McGee.”

“It’s an honor, Agent McGee.” Bedford inclined his head to Tim despite the glare from Jarvis. “The President wanted me to deliver his thanks for your actions yesterday.”

Uncertain of how to respond, Tim merely nodded in response. He glanced around the table before refocusing on Jarvis. Anger darkened the other man’s eyes as he snapped a demand for information.

“Of course, sir.” Tim slightly slurred the honorific. He heard the muffled chuckles from the left side of the table. He knew Morrow, Tobias, and the Commandant knew what he thought of his ultimate employer. He pulled a stack of papers from the folder before him. “Yesterday afternoon, a domestic terrorist by the name of Harper Dearing placed a bomb in the late Director’s car. Security protocols demanded that Director Vance’s car be parked directly in front of the building. This placed the bomb in one of the most vulnerable locations. Once we determined that there was a bomb in the vehicle, the building was ordered evacuated while Agent Gibbs, with the assistance of Jonathan Cole, attempted to locate and defuse the device.” Tim paused for a moment to hand the stack of papers to his father to scan through before passing them on. “Based on previous actions by Dearing, I am assuming that he used a remotely triggered bomb which he set off during the evacuation. Confirmation of the precise nature of the explosive will come when forensics concludes their search of the site.”

“While assisting in search, rescue and recovery operations yesterday, I was able to use our still working resources to locate Mr. Dearing. He is awaiting questioning before a determination of his status is made. With the severity of the damage to NCIS’s headquarters, the FBI is currently holding Dearing for us.” The sudden flare of triumph in the SecNav’s eyes concerned him. Tim had long suspected that Jarvis had another agenda; now, he was seeing proof. Not proof he could use to oust Jarvis, but enough that he made a mental note to begin investigating the man. “Forensics is collecting evidence while the Army Corps of Engineers are going over the remains of the building to determine the best course of action at this juncture.”

“Well, gentlemen, I believe my previous stance has been proven regarding...” 

The overly smug tone of Jarvis’s voice grated on Tim’s nerves yet he didn’t have to say a word. The SecNav was cut off by Chief Bedford who leaned slightly forward on the table to consider Tim.

“As Interim Director, what materials and personnel would you need to get NCIS up and running again, Agent McGee?”

“You can’t be...”

“Agent McGee has the President’s complete confidence, Secretary Jarvis.” Bedford smiled at the man next to him. Tim suddenly felt like a toy being fought over by two toddlers. “He also has the support of several of our allies.”

“Really?” Jarvis drawled the word while glaring at Tim. If looks could kill, Tim likely would have been a smear on the wall behind him. “Name one.”

“Director Eli David of Mossad.”

“Agent McGee doesn’t even know Director David.” Jarvis leaned back in his chair. His air of triumph returning as he considered the Deputy Chief and Tim. “Even so, I believe NCIS has proven itself to be outdated. They were under threat yet couldn’t find anything.”

“Actually, one of my current teammates is Director David’s daughter.” Tim inclined his head slightly to one side as he thought. “As to our inability to locate Dearing before this incident, NCIS’s efforts were hampered by your own insistence on Dr. Ryan of PsyOps being a part of the investigation.” 

Tim shifted his attention from the SecNav to Deputy Chief Bedford. He pulled out another neat stack of papers and slid them down the table to the man. “In answer to your question, Mr. Bedford, NCIS stands ready to complete our primary mission. All agents currently assigned afloat will continue in those positions. The Office of Special Projects in Los Angeles, all our field divisions throughout the country, and the training classes are continuing with business as usual despite the disruption caused by the destruction of our Headquarters building. What we need at the moment are waivers to allow some of the lightly injured staff to return to work, a location to work from, and equipment. I’ve made a list of our minimum requirements. I’ll also need to recruit experienced staff and agents from other agencies.”

“You may begin when you are ready.” Deputy Chief Bedford picked up the papers with a small smile. He rose, tapped the edge of the papers once on the table and nodded to everyone. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll present this to the President and the GAO for approval now.”

With Chief Bedford’s departure, the meeting quickly broke up. Jarvis didn’t even say goodbye, good riddance or make an excuse, just swept from the room in the man’s wake. Tim shook his head and rose as well. A hand slapped his shoulder and he twisted a bit to look at a grinning Fornell.

“Damn, kid...”

“Yeah.” Tim just smiled and nodded. “I’ll call you about Dearing, Tobias. I need...” He didn’t finish the sentence just grabbed his folder and started for the door. As he left the room, he heard his father protest his leaving and the Commandant’s gentle rebuke.

“He’s checking on his command, Admiral, as any Marine would.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey Boss.” Tony hobbled through the door into Gibbs’s room. He sat in one chair and used a crutch to drag the other closer so he could prop his leg up again. A relieved sigh escaped him as he settled into place. “”Thought you could use some company.”

A grunt answered him. Tony wasn’t surprised. Gibbs, like Ziva, hated being stuck in one place. With all the wires and metal surrounding him, there was no way Gibbs could move from his bed for a while. Tony shifted the chairs a bit until he could see Gibbs comfortably. “Did someone call Jack?”

“Tim did last night.” Gibbs’s voice was quiet. As if it was taking all his concentration to talk. “He called me this morning. I told him to stay in Stillwater.”

“I see.” Tony leaned against the rail of Gibbs’s bed. “Do you want to get the smack out of the way now, Boss?”

Gibbs’s hand came up but, instead of the smack Tony expected, it stroked the back of his head. A sigh escaped both of them at the touch. “Still here, Boss. May have been really stupid, but I’m still here.”

“I know, Tony.” Gibbs barely smiled at him. That hand kept stroking the back of his head. “I couldn’t handle losing both of you.”

“I plan on being around for a very long time.”

“Good.” Gibbs fingers slipped down to rest on the back of Tony’s neck. Just rested there but his thumb drifted around to rest against Tony’s pulse. “You talk to your dad?”

“Can we not talk about him?” Tony dropped his gaze down to the top of the bed. He picked at a loose thread on Gibbs’s blanket. “He’s ‘making a deal’ and can’t be disturbed.”

“He’s an idiot.” Gibbs squeezed the back of his neck before a muffled curse escaped him. A click from one of the many machines accompanied the curse. “Hate the drugs. Make me all fuzzy.”

“Trust me, Boss. Take the drugs.” Tony pointed at Gibbs’s legs. “With all that, take’em. I’m not getting the nice drugs.”

“Good. One of us needs to be clear headed.” Gibbs almost laughed before a half-sob escaped him. “You need to watch, Tony. Watch over Tim and Ziva for me.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Tony reached up and caught Gibbs’s hand in his. He squeezed it tight and glared up at his boss. “You do not get to sound like your giving up. My father’s an asshole, Boss. He has been for as long as I remember.” Tony paused and squeezed Gibbs’s hand again. “You can’t lose me. I can’t lose you, Gibbs.”

“You tryin’ to tell me somethin’, DiNozzo?”

“If you don’t know...” Tony started then trailed off. He stared intently at his mentor... boss... friend... hell, if he was honest with them both, his dad... and easily recognized the look in the man’s eyes. Lost, alone, bereft, exactly how he’d felt when he thought Ziva was dead. A look that Tony was certain Gibbs’s hadn’t worn since he’d gotten the news about his wife and daughter. Now, with the loss of Abs, it was back. He knew – though he doubted Gibbs knew that he knew – what the older man had contemplated all those years ago. Nope, he wasn’t going to allow it to happen now. “How can you not know...”

“Know what?”

“Abby called us the Gibblets.” Both men looked away from each other at the mention of the Goth’s name. Tony looked back first. He reached over and gently forced Gibbs to look at him. “We’re your kids, Boss. Me, Probie, Ziva, Abs, even Jimmy. Though thinking about it, maybe Jimmy’s more of a duckling. I’ll let you and Ducky fight over who gets to be his father figure.”

“He does kinda follow Duck around like a newly hatched duckling...”

“Yeah, he does, doesn’t he?” Tony chuckled softly. There was no denying that Jimmy often stumbled about in Ducky’s wake at crime scenes. Tony was glad for even that tiny bit of levity from the older man. “What I’m saying, Gibbs, is that you’ve taken the place of all our fathers. Each of them in their own way are total assholes. You’re our dad... the man we turn to for help and advice... and man am I going to need it.”

“You, Tony?”

“Yeah... Ziva’s going to want to kill me. I...”

“What?”

“Proposed.” Tony ducked his head and went back to picking at that thread again. “Used all the right words to. It’s even canonically legal. Probie agreed to stand as witness.”

This time he did get smacked. Not too hard but enough to be felt. Gibbs’s then tucked his fingers beneath his chin and lifted Tony’s head until they were staring at each other again. “Won’t yell at you about rule twelve... knew it was coming... but...”

“I know. I should have waited but I needed to do it.” Tony nodded and caught Gibbs’s hand in his again. “And I need to know that you’ll be there when I finally convince her I mean it. She’ll need someone to walk her down the aisle.”

“Me, huh?” Gibbs snorted a laugh. It became a half-sob. “Always thought I’d be doing that for Abs when she married McGee.”

“We all thought that, Boss.” Tony echoed the watery laugh. “That would have been the strangest wedding ever but...”

“We’d have loved it.” Gibbs closed his eyes. He suddenly squeezed Tony’s hand tight. “Gonna miss her.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“We all will.” Tim’s voice slid smoothly into the conversation. Tony craned his neck and watched as his Probie crossed the room to stand on Gibbs’s other side. “I should have fought with her and you long ago. Pushed her for what she wouldn’t admit she wanted.”

“She wasn’t ready, McGee.” Gibbs’s other hand grabbed Tim’s. “Abs was a party girl. Not ready to settle down.”

“I know.” Tony watched as Tim managed what he’d never even considered. Somehow Probie found space to perch on the edge of Gibbs’s bed without jarring anything. Now that was skill. “Doesn’t mean I don’t have regrets... wonderings of what might have been...”

“We all have those, McGee. Even me.”

“You know, she’d be all over us for acting like this.” Tony reached across the bed and added his hand to the clasp going on over there. He tried to smile, failed, and just leaned forward to rest his head on Gibbs’s shoulder. “How do we go on?”

“Same as we always do, Tony.” Tim’s voice cracked just a bit. Tony turned his head to look at his Probie. “We remember the good times, refuse to linger on the bad and...”

“Nail that bastard who killed her to the wall.” Gibbs voice, for the first time since Tony hobbled into his room, held a familiar strength. “He doesn’t get away with this. No technicalities, Tim. He hurt our family...” 

“So you make him pay, Probie.”

“You can count on it.” There was a solemnity to Tim’s words. In the way the youngest of them held their gazes. He never looked away from Gibbs. Tony could almost see the torch being passed from father to son in that moment. “He will pay for everything he’s done. As will everyone who helped him.”


	7. Chapter 7

Tim took his coffee back from Gibbs. He shared a secret smile with the older man as the two of them listened to Tony ramble on about his plans for properly proposing to Ziva and their eventual wedding. While it was nice to hear Tony thinking so positively of the distant future, Tim’s own mind lingered on the meeting with SecNav and the complaints he’d heard from the hospitalized survivors he’d taken the time to visit on his way up to see Gibbs and Tony. “As long as that damned bastard is in charge, nothing’s going to change.”

“From what you’ve told us.” Gibbs paused and, frowning, hit the clicker to give himself more of the morphine. “He won’t be there much longer.”

“Only if I can prove my hunch.” Tim took another sip of the coffee before offering the cup to Gibbs again. “He’s covered his tracks well so far.”

“I think you’ll find other people share it.” Tim suppressed a chuckle as Gibbs turned his frown on the new empty coffee cup. “Otherwise the President wouldn’t have been so happy to stomp down Jarvis in public.”

“Bedford was rather gleeful.” Tim conceded the point to the more politically experienced Gibbs. “ For a politician.”

“There you go.” Gibbs toasted him with the empty cup. Tim took it and handed it across the bed to Tony who gleefully crumbled the cup to throw it into the nearby trash can. “How much of a chance are they giving you to interrogate Dearing?”

“Slim to none. Too close to the investigation supposedly. That’s why I’m here waiting on news about Ziva rather than pounding his ass into a wall. Stopped off and visited my people on the way up.” Tim paused for a moment. He ran over what he just said in his mind. A soft groan of realization hit him. He dropped his head into his hand. “I did not just say that, did I?”

“You did.” Tony started snickering at him. “You so did, Probie.”

“Don’t laugh, Tony.” Gibbs lightly smacked Tony’s arm. His head was too far for the injured man to reach from his horizontal position. “They’re Tim’s people now.” The heavy silence silenced Tony and caused Tim to look up at both men. “Hell, we’re Tim’s people now.”

“Oh hell.” A low groan escaped Tony. “Probie’s the Boss, Boss.”

Now, Tim did laugh. The look on Tony’s face – equal parts pride and worry – just forced a laugh from him. He heard the sound, more drunken giggle than laugh, and knew he was closing in on hysteria. Tim reached across the bed and snatched Tony’s coffee from the table. He took a long deep drink in an attempt to calm his nerves. Then, frowned at the overly sweet taste of Tony’s favorite drink. 

“Hey...” 

Tony’s protest broke off as a light rap on the doorframe pulled their attention to the doctor standing there. Tim straightened and eased off Gibbs bed to stand beside it. They all looked expectantly at the man who momentarily looked overwhelmed by their scrutiny. After a moment, the Doctor focused on Tony. 

“Mr. DiNozzo, as Ms. David’s medical proxy, you have the right to hear this information alone.”

“No.” Tim watched as one of Tony’s hands crept backwards to grab Gibbs. Gibbs gritted his teeth as Tony’s hand clenched on his. “We’re all her family. I’d tell them anyway so...”

“Very well.” The doctor came in and laid the folder in his hands on the wheeled table at the bottom of Gibbs’s bed. “You may not remember me from last night, Mr. DiNozzo, but I’m Doctor Smith...”

Another tiny, near hysterical giggle escaped Tim. He couldn’t help it and, from Tony’s look, it was only his worry over Ziva which kept him from making a smart remark. A light tap to his arm from Gibbs calmed him enough to focus and allow Smith to continue. 

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll be blunt. I suspect that you’d all prefer that. I’ve gone over Ms. David’s test results from today and compared them from those when she first arrived in the trauma unit. The swelling around her spinal cord has decreased significantly allowing us to confirm our initial impression that there is no break in the spinal cord itself despite the severe damage to her vertebra.”

“In English, doc.” Tim snorted a small laugh at Gibbs complaint. Everyone knew Gibbs hated ‘medical speak’. “I’ll be out of these wires by the time you’re done.”

“In simple terms, Ms. David broke her back but appears to not have broken her spinal cord. Based on that, we’ve decided to go ahead with stabilization surgery on her spine. Afterwards, we’ll allow her to gradually wake on her own.” Tony hissed ‘yes’ died quickly as Smith held up a hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves with the cheers. We won’t know for certain if she’s paralyzed or not until she’s awake and able to participate in the tests. The total type and extent of her injuries still remains to be determined along with how long her recovery will be though I will say she if she comes through this surgery and wakes unimpaired she should pull through just fine.”

Tim watched as Tony seemed to relax with each reassuring word from Smith. It was as if a weight slipped off him until by the end Tony was actually smiling faintly. “So, she’ll be okay?” 

“Yes, Mr. DiNozzo. All indications are she’ll be just fine though a full recovery will take several months to a year.” Smith nodded to them all and gathered up his folder again. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to rejoin her surgical team. I’ll make certain you receive updates as the surgery progresses.”

“Thanks, Doc.” Tony nodded and watched the man leave before bouncing once in his chair. “Fuck... remind me not to do that.”

“Hey Tony...”

“Yeah, Probie?”

“Don’t do that.”

Tony snarled and looked around the room. Tim knew he was looking for something to throw at him but the soft chuckles from the bed between them made them both smile at each other. Anything they could do to keep Gibbs cheered up was a good thing in both their minds. Tim met Tony’s eyes, flicked his towards Gibbs, and got a small nod in return. They knew what to do now. The soft sound of his new secure cell phone vibrating on his hip broke the playful moment.

“Yeah, McGee.” Tim frowned as Tony chuckled at him. He knew he’d picked up his method of answering the phone from his boss. They all had actually. Only Ziva didn’t answer hers that way. She usually said ‘Shalom’ or her full name depending on who the caller was. “What the hell? Dammit, Tobias, I... Yeah, I’m on my way.”

“That was Fornell.” He flipped the phone closed and glared hard at the innocent bit of plastic as if it could give him the answers he needed. “When he and Sacks arrived at Anacostia-Bolling to pick up Dearing for transport to Hoover for questioning, they were informed he’d been found dead in his cell this morning. Fornell’s already had the body transported to their labs at Quantico where Jimmy’s been...” Tim trailed off and swallowed hard. He bit his lip and took a couple of deep breaths. “Jimmy’s been working there with the FBI’s Medical Examiner. I need to go...”

Before he could do much more than stand and tuck his phone away, Sandoval entered the room with a second Marine right on his heels. Tim managed to summon up a smile despite the anger coursing through his veins. “Sandoval, I need to get to Quantico...”

“I’m sorry, Director.” Sandoval straightened and actually managed to look apologetic. His next words pulled what little equilibrium Tim had managed to acquire right out from under him. “I’ve just received orders to take you directly to the White House. The President wishes to speak to you.”

Tim could only stand there and blink stupidly at the lead officer of his security detail. He knew he likely looked like an idiot but him meet with the President? He wasn’t anyone of importance in the great scheme of Washington. A hard smack to the back of his head shook him out of his shock. He glared at Tony for the smack who in turn tilted his head toward Gibbs. 

“Well, go on, McGee.” Gibbs waved a hand toward the door. “Don’t keep the Commander in Chief waiting.”


	8. Chapter 8

The car pulled up beneath the West Wing portico. Tim was more than content to allow the Marines to exit the car first. He still couldn’t figure out why he was being asked to meet directly with the President rather than speak to SecNav again. He stared blindly through the car and out the front windshield unable to take anything in at the moment. Sandoval’s voice, soft and barely audible, knocked him out of his stupor.

“Agent McGee?”

“Oh...” Tim nodded and slid across the rear seat. Exiting the car, he took a moment to stare at the entrance. He straightened his back and shoulders, winced as his aches made themselves known again, and headed for the door being held open by a different Marine. He nodded to the man as he stepped inside following another staffer’s directions to the Reception Room. There he was met by a vaguely familiar Secret Service agent. It took a moment of thought before he recognized the man as Special Agent William Baer. “Sir?”

“I’m sorry, Agent McGee...” Baer placed a hand lightly on his chest. Tim frowned at him in question. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave all your weapons here before you can meet with the President.”

“All of them?” Tim chuckled but nodded. He’d wondered if his position as a member of a Federal agency, complete with all the appropriate clearances, would exempt him from that protocol. He remembered Kate telling him how much Gibbs hated having to give up his gun to fly on Air Force One. At Baer’s nod, Tim shrugged one shoulder. “Kate told me about this once.” 

Tim reached beneath his coat to remove his SIG Sauer. He pulled the weapon from the holster, popped the clip and unchambered the round before offering it to Baer. He in turn handed it off to a waiting junior agent. Tim glanced around the room, shrugged again, and propped one foot on a table to remove his backup, a smaller Glock pistol, and again unloaded pistol before handing it over as well. He straightened and cocked his head to one side for a moment. He considered carefully then reached back beneath his coat to pull out the knife he wore at his back. Tim stared at the blade for a long moment, sighed, and flipped it over in his hand to offer the hilt to Baer. 

“That everything?” 

“Yeah.” Tim laughed at the look on both the Secret Service agents and Sandoval’s faces. “I just broke rule nine for you. Gibbs will not be happy with me.” 

“Very well.” Baer nodded to his junior agent who settled at a small desk nearer the entrance and set Tim’s weapons in a drawer. “If you’ll follow me...”

Tim waited long enough to watch his escort take up a waiting post nearer the entrance to the Reception Room before following Baer out into a hallway where they took an immediate right through the Roosevelt Room before exiting into the small reception area directly in front of the Oval Office. Baer looked back at him. Tim briefly straightened his suit coat beneath his overcoat before nodding once. The other agent chuckled softly before rapping firmly on the door, stepping inside and announcing Tim’s arrival. In all his life, Tim had never expected to ever set foot within these walls in a professional capacity. Somehow, he gathered himself together and walked into the office. He waited until the President approached him with a smile of welcome. 

“Director McGee...” The President offered his hand for Tim to shake before gesturing toward the chairs by the fireplace. Tim inclined his head while politely waiting for the other man to sit down. “Let’s speak plainly. My advisors have kept me appraised of the situation at the Washington Navy Yard. I was informed when the mastermind was caught. I was one of a handful of people who definitely knew that said traitor remained at Anacostia-Bolling rather than being transferred to FCC Petersburg.” 

“Sir?” Tim asked the question carefully as he didn’t understand why the President was personally interested in the death of Dearing. He’d much rather be handling that investigation then sitting in this room.

“There is a traitor in my administration, Director McGee.” The President leaned slightly forward in his chair. “I want you to find him.”

“I...” Tim took a steadying breath and nodded. “Of course, though I would have thought you’d hand such an investigation over to a special prosecutor.”

“That’s not possible in this instance.” He reached for the table between them and handed him a simple file folder. McGee took it and automatically flipped through the contents. “You'll find that this man had contacts throughout The Department of Homeland Security, Justice Department and the Central Intelligence Agency. The Federal Bureau of Investigation is cleaner, but we're not absolutely certain yet. The only agency we are positive was not compromised was the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.”

The President rose to his feet. He strode quickly to his desk and rested a hand on the surface for a moment. Tim watched as the man considered several framed photographs which rested on the credenza behind the desk. He was certain they were of his wife and children though he couldn't see them clearly from where he sat. The President picked up a leather bound folder bearing the Seal of the President on the cover. He held it out to Tim. “I’ve signed an executive order giving you full authority to investigate the matter. For the duration of the investigation, the position you currently hold, Director of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, has been made a cabinet level position. You report directly to me. Not to the Secretary of the Navy. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, Mr. President.” Tim held the folder carefully in his hands. He considered his options carefully. “Though I do feel it necessary to inform you NCIS is currently hobbled by the loss of our operational headquarters.”

“You’ll find, Director, that the papers you hold authorize you to use whatever means and materials necessary for your investigation. I’m certain you already have a temporary facility in mind.”

Tim conceded the point with a nod. The President was correct. He did have a few ideas in mind. It was just a matter of putting things into play. If he could, he’d find a way to restore the current building while using MTAC to organize this operation. “I’d like to pull two agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation over on temporary duty assignments.”

“Whoever you need, Director McGee.” The President’s gaze shifted back to the photographs on the credenza. “I want this dealt with quickly and with extreme prejudice. Too many lives, too many people’s children, are at stake.”

“Yes, sir.” Tim rose and nodded to the man. He understood the point exactly. “We’ll handle it, Mr. President.”

“I’m placing a great deal of trust in you, Director.” The President flashed his famous smile then became serious again. Tim knew the trust had been earned thanks to hours of research into his background while papers were drafted and signed. “On a personal note, my wife and I would like to extend our condolences on your losses. From what I hear, you were a close family over there.”

“Very much so. Thank you, Mr. President. I’ll pass your words along to my teammates and the other staff.” Tim nodded and returned the smile for a moment. He tucked the folders under his arm and he stood briefly at attention before nodding one final time and leaving the Oval Office. His mind was rapidly sorting though nuances and implications. Giving him a Cabinet-level office meant the President had just made him equal to SecNav Jarvis in both access and authority. Extrapolating from that, the President didn’t trust Jarvis. He just didn’t have the proof with which to demand the man’s resignation. It was up to McGee to locate it along with anyone else involved in this attack.


	9. Chapter 9

After taking a moment to retrieve his weapons, Tim exited the West Wing headed for his waiting car. He’d just cleared the entrance when a lightly accented baritone caught his attention. 

“Director McGee, my Director wishes to speak with you. If you would join us...?”

“Officer Ben-Gidon.” He turned slowly in the direction of the voice and almost chuckled at the excited chatter of the watching press corps. Tim glanced around and easily located the small limousine with the Israeli flags mounted on the corners of the hood and lightly fluttering in the slight breeze. “I’d be honored to join Director David. I do need to return to the hospital in Bethesda. Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all. We are headed there ourselves.” Malachi gestured and led the way to the car. Liat nodded to him before stepping back to open a rear door. “We attempted to contact you on our arrival as requested but learned you were here. The Director decided to meet you rather than send you out of your way to meet him.”

“Ah.” He nodded. He glanced at Sandoval who was just barely frowning at him. Tim waved a hand at Malachi and Liat. “Malachi Ben-Gidon, Liat Tuvia of _HaMossad leModi'in uleTafkidim Meyuchadim_ , this is Staff Sergeant Mario Sandoval of the United States Marine Corps. He leads my security detail. He would prefer to travel with me, Malachi.”

“Liat, please join the rest of the Director’s detail. You know what to look for.” Eli’s voice drifted out from the interior of the car. “Malachi will drive us. Is that acceptable, Staff Sergeant?”

Tim shared a look with Sandoval. He just barely nodded. Sandoval returned the nod. Tim then slid into the car. He chuckled softly as he settled beside Eli. “Thank you.”

“For what, Tim? I merely got us on our way.” Eli settled back into his side of the car with a small smile. Eli handed him another embossed folder. This one bore the soft blue and white emblem of the nation of Israel on the cover. “You have realized this situation was born from more than just one man’s vendetta against your nation’s Navy.” 

“Even if I had missed it in my own work, the meeting I just attended made it abundantly clear. I’m not going to like what I find in this folder, am I?” Tim absently tapped the stack of folders he held in his lap. “Why are you helping me?”

“My daughter thinks highly of you. So too did Leon.” Eli gestured lightly with one hand. “I read the files Ziva put together for my son before his final mission. After her last mission for Mossad, I did more research. All of your team...” Eli trailed off for a moment. “You are good men. Honorable. Not likely to fall for political games. Which makes you good allies.”

“I see. I’ll go over the information later. I may need to contact you for clarification.” Tim shifted a bit in the car until he could face Eli directly. He debated the wisdom of what he was about to do as the limousine waited in the congested DC traffic. If he was honest with himself, and he always tried to be, he had no choice but to ask. “Eli, may I ask a favor?”

“You may ask...” Eli chuckled. “Whether it is granted...”

“Is another story.” Tim echoed the laugh for just a moment. “You know the disaster which has fallen NCIS. I’m certain you know all about my very recent promotion. Adding in the information you just gave me, even if I haven’t looked it over yet...” Tim paused and debated his words. “Would you mind assigning Liat to keep a discrete watch over my sister. Sarah’s too stubborn to leave Waverly but too old to have her own detail. I know my father will work on getting her home but until she finally gives in to his demands...”

“She is vulnerable.” Eli stared at him; Tim held his gaze. He saw no censure in the older man’s eyes merely curiosity. “Why Liat?”

“While I am certain she’s as highly trained as all members of the _Kidon_ , but she also doesn’t look old enough to have completed all that training. Liat could easily pass as a university student allowing her to blend in on campus while still protecting Sarah.”

“I will speak with her. Her agreement depends on her.” While Eli’s words didn’t make a commitment, something in the other Director’s eyes told him Liat would be agreeing to the assignment. “Now, please, tell me of my daughter.”

“When I left the Bethesda, my team and I had just been brief by her primary physician. They’d confirmed some of her injuries and decided to go ahead with the appropriate surgeries before allowing her to wake up on her own from the induced coma. They won’t know the extent of any damage to her spinal cord until she wakes and is able to respond to stimuli.” Tim clenched a hand around the folders in his lap before consciously relaxing again. “I haven’t received any calls so I am assuming she’s still in surgery.”

“How was she injured?”

“I don’t know the exact details however I do know that she and her regular partner, Anthony DiNozzo, ducked into the rear elevator in the final moments before the explosion.” Tim shook his head. He still couldn’t believe they’d done that. A soft snort from the front seat caused him to look up and meet Malachi’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He seemed to share Tim’s disbelief. “I know the elevator fell when the braking system broke loose. It fell inside and struck her as she and Tony fell to the floor of the elevator car.” Tim lifted one shoulder in a half shrug but smiled anyway. “Someone was looking out for them. Of all the elevators in the building, they took the one which had been reinforced after 911.”

“I understand that Agent DiNozzo’s injuries are considerably less dangerous.”

“Physically, yes.” Tim conceded that point easily. “Mentally and emotionally? Tony’s wrecked.”

“He blames himself for Ziva’s injuries.”

“Yes.” Tim leaned back in the seat. He debated with himself for a moment before speaking again. “I’m given to understand that as the bomb went off, the elevator rocked before giving way. Ziva pushed him down then it dropped and the equipment fell through the ceiling. It hit her instead of him.”

Eli chuckled, a sad sound. “Ziva would want to protect him.”

“He wants to protect her just as much.”

“But they have not yet spoken, have they?”

“I’ve watched them for a long time, Eli. Neither trusts easily. Even more so in the wake of the last several years events.” Tim closed his eyes for a moment remembering what he overheard in Ziva’s hospital room. A soft smile settled on his face. He knew that as long as this man didn’t push them apart, his friends had the chance he’d never really pushed hard enough for with Abby. “Tony...”

“He has decided to speak as soon as she’s awake.” Another chuckle drifted across the car. Tim opened his eyes and met Eli’s gaze. “I would too if I was in his place.”

“Yes.” Tim nodded to emphasize the confirmation. “You won’t cause them problems?”

“I want my daughter happy.” Eli ran his fingers over the edge of the car window. “She is happiest here with all of you. I accept that.”

“I’m glad you can accept it.” Tim’s lips twisted into a pleased smirk. “I’d hate to have to ruin our developing friendship by threatening you.”

“Ah, Tim.” Eli now laughed outright. Tim found himself chuckling along with the elder man. “You will be as bad as Leon. Or as good.”


	10. Chapter 10

Tony sat beside Ziva in her new room in Bethseda’s secure wing. It wasn’t so much a room as a suite of rooms featuring several connected treatment rooms, a security room, and the central nurses station. Based on comments he’d overheard as he, Gibbs, and Ziva were transferred from one space to the other, they’d been moved because of security concerns. Apparently being the Probie’s ‘family’ made them targets; he resolved to get details out of McGee when the other man returned to visit again.

At least their new rooms had nicer chairs. Tony sighed as he settled deeper into the recliner next to Ziva’s bed. No more awkwardly propping his leg up or contorting himself in order to watch Ziva. He reached out and stroked the back of one of her hands with his fingers. “You need to wake up, _gattina_. I need you to threaten me with paperclips for betrothing us without ring or witnesses.” Tony just barely laughed. “Well, witnesses other than Probie.”

“A Jewish woman does not wear an engagement ring, Agent DiNozzo.” 

It took a moment for Tony to recognize the voice which so smoothly slid into his one sided conversation. He straightened abruptly and twisted about to stare at Eli David. “Oh... well...” Tony frowned in thought. “That makes this more difficult.”

A softer laugh came from behind Eli as his Probie followed the Mossad Director into the room. Tony watched Tim smile at Eli while retrieving a chair for the Mossad Director to sit on on the opposite side of the bed. Tim then crossed the room to join him and rested a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Eli, let me officially introduce you to Ziva’s usual field partner, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, Junior.” Tim’s hand squeezed once. “Tony, I’m certain you recognize Ziva’s father, Director-General Eli David of the Mossad.”

Before either man could say anything, Tim leaned down beside him. His lips brushed his ear as Tim murmured. “Remember, no matter what you think of him personally, he is your future father-in-law provided Ziva doesn’t ask me for paperclips.” He straightened and nodded to a chuckling Eli. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on the rest of the arrangements. I know Tony has the most recent information regarding your daughter’s care.”

“That man will make a great Secretary of Defense on day.” Eli seemed to be speaking his thoughts aloud as they watched Tim leave Ziva’s room. 

“Probie?”

“Your President has just made the NCIS Directorship a cabinet-level position.” Eli settled into his chair on the other side of Ziva’s bed. “If Tim performs as expected, in fifteen or so years, he will be the right age for that position. Or perhaps Secretary of the Navy.” Eli waved a dismissing hand. “Don’t worry Agent DiNozzo. I believe there are plans for you too. Tim won’t forget his friends as he advances.”

Tony shook his head. His Probie, the green kid he’d helped pluck out of Norfolk’s tiny hole-in-the-wall office, was now in charge of the whole mess. Who’d have thought it? Certainly not him. He nodded to the still unconscious Ziva. “I have only one plan in mind at the moment, Sir.”

“I know.” Eli just barely smiled at him. “And I believe it is even traditional in your religion that I ask if you can support my daughter in the state to which I’d like her to become accustomed. However, since I trained her to use those paperclips...”

“Better not.” Tony chuckled softly. He understood. If it was his daughter, he’d be asking the same thing. Wait... his daughter... now he was adding a family to the marriage which wasn’t even officially on the table yet. “I’ve managed to keep my real inheritance out of my father’s grasp, sir. That won’t be a problem. Of course, that assumes she doesn’t follow through on the long standing paperclip threat.”

“I think you’ll find that my daughter has a soft spot for you.” Eli stared intently across the room at him. “Now, then. Tell me what happened on the day of the explosion, Tony. I may call you Tony, yes? Sometimes reviewing events with a new person can trigger memories.” 

“She scared me.” Tony’s hand crept back onto the bed to clasp Ziva’s fingers. “Too quiet and still once everything settled afterwards. I thought I’d lost her again. Never been so relieved to feel her breathing against my neck. I can’t go through this a third time.”

“Your jobs are inherently dangerous, Tony. There is nothing you can do about that. It is better to grasp each day and live it fully.”

“Never expected the danger to come to the bullpen. I’ve been waiting for a bullet to take me out for years now.” Tony shook his head a bit. He’d come close to death more than once over his law enforcement career. “I’ve been a cop all my life, Director. I know about the dangers.”

“The danger just increased exponentially.” Eli tapped a finger lightly on the bed beside Ziva. Tony watched him closely. He also watched his partner. He had a sneaking suspicion she was awake but pretending to be asleep in order to get information. “NCIS is now the leader in American anti-terrorist efforts.”

“How? We’re the bottom of the ArmFed ladder. Everyone loves to rub that in our faces. We’re the smallest of the investigative agencies. How’d we end up in charge?”

“Ironically, it is because of that description. Nobody cared. You weren’t the FBI or CIA. Nor the Secret Service or National Security. So NCIS was ignored.” Eli waved his hand again with a small smile. “And while they ignored you, Leon and Gibbs built one hell of an agency.”

“More Gibbs than anyone else, sir. He’s been with the agency for twenty years now. I think more of our agents relied on his lead then that of the directors.”

“Leon knew that and was wise enough to build on it.” Eli smiled and looked down at his daughter. One corner of his mouth lifted a bit higher. Tony suspected that Eli knew Ziva was awake as well but allowing her the illusion. “And Gibbs raised all of you. Ziva included. I wasn’t much of a father to her. He became that.”

“She still cares for you.” Tony stroked the back of her hand and felt her squeeze his once in return. He really should let her doctors know she was awake but didn’t want to break this conversation to do so. “We all know that.”

“I do love her.” A rueful smile crossed Eli’s face. He looked directly at Tony then down at Ziva. Tony barely nodded in return. “Although you might find that hard to believe.”

“Honestly, no, I don’t.” Tony felt Ziva tense just a tiny bit. Her hand squeezed his harder. “I don’t like your decisions regarding her. I don’t think you treated her very well but I do believe you care.” He returned Ziva’s squeeze with one of his own. “I think it was a case of not being able to express those feelings first when she was a child as it would make her a target and later, when she was Mossad, because some would claim favoritism. Now she’s not your employee, so you can say and think it, but actually showing the emotions will be harder because of the long standing habits you have now.”

“You are cleverer than they think you are, Tony.” Eli studied him for a very long moment. “And much more insightful.”

“You hide behind the inscrutable mask of the Director-General, sir.” Tony inclined his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. “I play the fool.”

“I think that time is over. Gibbs is older now. You will have to take his place in the new NCIS administration. Tim will lead it, but you will build and strengthen his leadership.”

“Oh, I won’t let Probie down. I’m just waiting for...” Tony shook his head. “Never mind. That’s personal. I expect Gibbs to hold out until this case is closed then he’ll officially retire for the final time.”

“You are probably right. You will then step into his shoes. He’s been training you for that for at least six years.”

“Ten.” Tony smiled widely as he corrected the man. “I’ve worked for Gibbs for ten years now. Jen... Director Sheppard, I mean, offered me Rota’s team but I didn’t feel it was time to go. So I stayed, but I knew all along I was his eventual replacement. He treated me differently from the others assigned to his team until we were joined by Kate, then Tim and finally Ziva.”

“Agent Gibbs always knows what he’s doing when it comes to training his people.” Eli tilted his head toward his daughter. “I think my Ziva took a very special place in his heart. Like you and young Abigail.”

“Yeah.” Tony dropped his gaze to the bedding. He tightened his hold on Ziva’s hand and heard her suck in a soft breath breaking her long silence. “Abs.. Abs was important to a lot of us.”

“She is a great loss.” A long silence fell in the room. Tony looked from Eli to Ziva and back again. Slowly Eli smiled as he watched them both. “Now, Tony, I think we need to trade information while we wait on Ziva’s doctor’s to arrive to assess her.” He brushed his daughter’s hair back with an unsteady hand. “Do not think I didn’t know you were awake, my daughter.”

She merely smiled at them both. Tony barely chuckled as he lifted her hand and kissed the back. He stroked her fingers while settling comfortably in his chair again. He nodded to Eli who pressed the button to summon her nurse. For the first time since the explosion which nearly destroyed his life, he was having a bit of fun even if it was tempered by the loss of Abby and so many other of his friends and colleagues. And really, it wouldn’t be so bad having the man who knew all the secrets as his father-in-law. “What do you have to trade, Eli?”


	11. Chapter 11

Tim left Tony’s room, passing Malachi who’d taken up guard duty at the door, and somehow managed to contain his laughter until he’d entered Gibbs’s new room. He stepped inside, closed the door and leaned back against it while laughing for all he was worth. Tony’s expression when reminded that the Director-General of Mossad would be his father-in-law was absolutely priceless.

“Going to share the joke, McGee?”

“Tony just realized that if Ziva agrees to his proposal and he upsets her later then his father-in-law could have him killed without ever getting caught.”

“How could he have forgotten that?” Gibbs shook his head before pointing at the folders Tim was still carrying under his arm. “So, can you talk about it?”

Tim came over to the bed and settled into the bedside chair. He sighed softly at finally being able to sit down and relax. He now understood why Tony looked so comfortable. This was a very nice chair. He closed his eyes for a moment before a softly cleared throat reminded him that Gibbs was waiting for an answer. He tossed the folders onto the rolling table hovering over Gibbs’s lap. 

“Right. Well, I’m certain there will be an official announcement soon but I’ve not only been named interim director but the position has been promoted to cabinet-level reporting directly to the President.” Tim shifted the top two folders over. “The leather one is my promotion and the change to NCIS’s position. The second cream colored one is everything the President was able to locate about the situation apparently while researching me. The last one, the white one, is information from Eli.”

“Eli, is it?” Tim looked up to see Gibbs’s eyes sparkling with laughter. “Moving fast there, McGee.”

“Even I know the political value of being on a first name basis with the Director-General of _HaMossad leModi'in uleTafkidim Meyuchadim_.” Tim chuckled softly. “He tried to call me Timothy. I can only tolerate that from Ducky. Not after years of hearing it sneered at me by my father. So, I corrected him to Tim. He told me to call him Eli.” 

“Hell, Boss, why me?” Tim leaned his head back against the back of the chair. He let his eyes drift close again. It would be so easy to just drift off to sleep for a while. His aches were returning with a vengeance and his sleepless night was rapidly catching up with him. “I’m just a computer geek who happens to shoot a gun well.”

“Stop that, McGee.” The words were harshly spoken. It was a verbal head slap if he’d ever heard one. Tim automatically sat up straighter and gave Gibbs his full attention. “Why do you think I plucked you out of that office in Norfolk? I saw all that potential being wasted down there. You were never just a computer geek. You just needed tempering and refining.” Gibbs paused for a moment to have a drink from the water glass beside his bed. “A ‘geek’ couldn’t have carried off the Somalia job. Nor would one have stayed behind to do what you did in MTAC yesterday. You grew out of the geek label a long time ago, Tim. You just refused to notice.”

At a loss for words, Tim merely stared at his boss for several minutes. He’d never really considered how the rest of the agency thought of him. He’d been too focused on the way Tony kept putting him down or Abby manipulated him. Though he hated to think badly of his recently deceased on-off lover, she had often used his emotions against him. He’d certainly never heard Gibbs speak this much to him at any time. So, he sat and thought and finally shrugged as much as his aching ribs would allow. “I just did my job, Boss.”

“Yes, exactly.” Gibbs nodded in confirmation. “That’s why I picked you for my team. I knew no matter what the circumstances you’d do your job. Now, the job is to find the bastards who helped Dearing murder Abby.”

“Starting with our dear SecNav.” Tim could hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice. That man’s slick political methods grated on his nerves. “He’s up to something more than what he tried this morning.”

“He’s a coward and a schemer. They don’t do well under pressure.”

“I know he’s plotting something. His maneuver with my father was a case in point.” Tim leaned forward to tap the Presidential folder. “This is going to piss him off. Jarvis is either going to obstruct me or pressure me. Likely by using my father in some way.”

“Your father knows how the political winds are blowing. He’ll protect his career first.” Gibbs stared at the ceiling. “Jarvis has been hobbled by the President and he knows it. He’s going to try to butter you up first.”

“Yeah.” Tim sighed and settled back into the chair again. “I know. How in the hell do I do this, Boss? I’m in charge of a crippled agency whose best agents are either hospitalized or dead yet I’m expected to root out these traitors in our military and government.”

“You’ll do it because that’s the job, McGee.” Gibbs shifted a bit in the bed before groaning and settling for glaring hard over at him. “You’ll do it because that’s what I trained you to do. You’ll do it because it’s the right thing to do and you’re too honorable not to complete what you’ve started.”

Tim felt himself straightening up in unconscious reaction to Gibbs’s words. The man was so much more his father than his biological one. Oh, he knew Gibbs would deny that fact until the cows returned home and were slaughtered for barbeque but it was the plain truth. Just as as a child he never wanted to disappoint his father, he never wanted to disappoint Gibbs. “I don’t even know where to start, Boss.”

“You start with a team...”

“My best team is laid up in the hospital.”

“Then find the second best or build a new one.” Gibbs balled up the empty paper cup he’d been periodically drinking from and threw it rather accurately at his head. Tim caught it and tossed it overhand into a trash can. “We’re still here, McGee. Use our brains. They aren’t broken like our bodies are.”

“Right.” Tim dropped his head back against the back of the chair. He stared at the ceiling as he thought hard about what he did know of NCIS’s status. “Balboa’s mostly okay – minor injuries – but I don’t know the status of the rest of his team. Of our DC assets, only the Pentagon team escaped this incident without any injuries.”

“Of course not, they weren’t there.”

“First step, find out everyone’s status. Who’s available and in what capacity.” Tim lowered his eyes to meet Gibbs. “As much as I’d like to pull in the OSP team, they’ve got a big mess of their own to deal with. Might consult by phone with Ms. Lange though. She might have some advice.”

“And...”

“I’ve got Tobias and Ron Sacks on TAD with us. I think I’m going to lead this investigation myself with a handful of trusted agents. Definitely going to pick your brains. Even half dead in the hospital, the MCRT is my best team. Not replacing you yet.” Tim thought for a moment before pulling a pen from his pocket, grabbing a folder a scribbling notes on the cover. “I’ll need to bring Laurel in... see if she can set up something like MTAC for you three to work from. Maybe get Ned... Sacks can mentor him in the field for now...”

“Laurel?” Gibbs’s hand lightly smacked his wrist. “Who?”

“Laurel Rayne.” Tim smiled at the memory of the blonde who’d worked so diligently the previous day. Had it really been only a single day? It felt like forever. “She’s one of the MTAC techs. Helped me with the S&R work yesterday.” He thought for a moment. Shuddering as he remembered the footage of Gibbs and Abby before they’d been rescued then groaned and slapped himself in the forehead. “Hell. This is what she meant.”

“Tell me.”

“Yesterday, Balboa tried to order us out of MTAC once we found...” Tim paused; Gibbs gestured for him to go on. “Anyway, I tossed off the headset and gestured for her to cut the connection. She did almost before I did it. When I asked why, she said something about wanting to get the practice in.”

“You trust her? Then bring her in. You need a good PA.”

“Right.” Tim tossed the pen down. He just couldn’t think. There was so damned much to organize. Not just the investigation but the recovery efforts at the Yard and determining where NCIS would work from until they found or rebuilt their headquarters. He absently rubbed at his eyes with the heel of one hand. “Okay... I need to look into a temporary headquarters. Crime doesn’t stop just because...” 

“Call Hetty and Tobias. Then take a nap, McGee.” Gibbs voice was equal parts amused and stern. Tim looked up at him and found himself smiling at the almost parental look he was receiving. “You’re all but asleep on your feet.”

“I can’t sleep. Too much to do and I keep...” Tim shook his head. He knew Gibbs didn’t need to know about the images he kept seeing when he closed his eyes. “I’ll just get some more coffee.”

“That’s an order, Tim.” Gibbs’s voice firmed. Now the familiar tones of his boss when insisting the team get some rest during a hot case. “You need the rest. An hour or so won’t change anything.” Gibbs paused for a moment. The tiniest hint of a smile settled on his face. “Even laid up like this I think I can keep the nightmares away for that long.”

“All right, Boss.” Tim returned the smile and rose long enough to slip off both of his jackets. He draped them over the other chair in the nearby corner. He settled down again into the recliner. “You’re right. I do need the rest. I just...”

“Are afraid you’ll miss something. More likely when you’re tired. Same with nightmares. Come more often when you’re overtired and stressed” Gibbs shuffled the paperwork into a neat stack for him. “Relax, Tim, sleep. I’ve got your six.”


	12. Chapter 12

It was amazing what two hours uninterrupted sleep, a good meal and a really good cup of coffee could do for a man’s outlook on a difficult situation. Tim leaned against the frame of the security surveillance room’s door and watched as Laurel crawled across the floor to finish hooking one of NCIS’s surviving mainframes into this room’s system. Tim wanted it as independent from Bethesda’s internal computer system as possible. A soft familiar laugh from beside his ear made him glance sidelong at Tony. 

“So...” Tony’s amused voice murmured directly in his ear. “Not gay after all.”

“Tony...” Tim shook his head with a soft laugh. He was glad something hadn’t changed after the eventful two days they’d just lived. “Gibbs said I should make Laurel there my Personal Assistant.” He reached back and lightly smacked Tony’s head before he could say a word. “She’s making sure our makeshift video conference center is secure while hooking in one of the few mainframes salvaged out of the subbasement.”

“They’re pulling out stuff already?”

“Yeah.” Tim turned around to face Tony. “The Army wants to demolish the building rather than attempt a repair despite the historic nature of the property. Too many of the load bearing beams were damaged in the explosion. Balboa took it on himself to order anyone able to start pulling out files, equipment and personal stuff that survived the explosion. Boxed our desks and the Director’s stuff first. Laurel pulled the one working mainframe and the backups from MTAC. Brought that here.”

“Been busy.” Tony nodded and shifted on his crutches. “I may not be field duty, Probie, but I can do desk work.”

“Oh, I’ve got plans for you.” Tim glanced back into the room. “Laurel? Can you manage?”

“I’ll find you when it’s up, sir.” Laurel looked up at him and brushed her hair back from her face. “Be about ten minutes assuming the tests feeds work.”

“Okay.” Tim waved his coffee mug toward Gibbs room. He laughed as Tony took a deep breath as the mug passed his nose. “Gibbs’s room. We’re meeting in there.”

“You are a tease, McGee.” Tony hobbled his way the few feet down to Gibbs’s room. “You have coffee and refuse to share.”

“Would the news that there’s a coffee maker in Gibbs room make you move faster?” Tim chuckled as Tony did just that, move faster down the hall in search of coffee. He followed Tony into Gibbs room. “Sacks, give that chair to Tony so he can prop his leg up.” Not waiting to see if the order was followed, Tim crossed over and refilled his mug, poured a full cup and doctored it for Tony, and finally poured a half-cup for Gibbs. He turned around and handed them out then leaned back against the credenza which held the coffee maker. “I think everyone here knows everyone else, but just in case...”

“Malachi Ben-Gidon, Mossad. Ron Sacks, Tobias Fornell, FBI. Tony DiNozzo, Jethro Gibbs, NCIS.” He pointed out each person in turn before tilted his head toward the dark corner by the windows. “And, hiding in the dark corner there, Ray Cruz, CIA. The only people not presently here are Laurel Rayne and Ziva David, also NCIS.”

A low growl escaped Tony as he and Gibbs glared into the corner at Ray. Tim knew both men disliked and distrusted the CIA agent who’d messed with Ziva’s emotions for his own gain. He whistled softly to get their attention back. “He brought me some information necessary for the investigation.” 

“Fine.” Tony sulked at him as he settled back in his chair with his mug. “Don’t trust him though. CIA seems to hate us.”

“I know, Tony.” 

Tim drank from his mug and watched the group stare at each other. He knew they were taking measure of the others and deciding if they trusted them or not. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when Ray sauntered out of the corner and slipped him a pair of flash drives before nodding to everyone. Ray left and Laurel entered with a mug in her hand.

“Do I need a knife to cut my way into the room, sir?”

“No, but get one anyway.” Tim tilted his head toward Gibbs. “Rule nine... never go anywhere without a knife.”

“Oh.... they do come in handy. I’ll acquire one, sir.” Laurel then grinned at him. She bounced lightly on her toes for a moment. The mannerism a painful reminder of Abby before she settled down again and became the composed woman he knew from MTAC. “So, I’m going to get to learn the famous rules!” 

“They’re famous?” 

Gibbs and Tony both questioned before looking at each other with equally sad eyes. Tim knew what they’d been listening for; he too missed Abby’s unique contributions to their cases. 

“Everyone knows about the rules, Boss.” Tim said with a wry grin of his own. “I’d even heard about them long before I met you.”

He glanced around the room again, nodded once, and jerked his head toward the door. Laurel returned the nod as she reached over to close the door. She pulled two small devices out of her pocket and flipped it one on. A soft hum filled the air as she fiddled with the first before setting it down. Tim adjusted the position of the white noise generator as Laurel quickly scanned the room for any listening devices with the other. She plucked one out of a corner and calmly reached over Tony’s shoulder to drop it in his coffee. 

“We’re clear.” 

Laurel handed the cup to Tim as she went to the credenza. Within a minute a pouting Tony had a new cup in hand. Tim fished the bug out of the coffee long enough to consider the make of it. He frowned then dropped it back into the drink for the time being. Great, he hadn’t even started to seriously investigate anyone and he was already dealing with listening devices. Tim knew it was only going to get worse.

“All right, Boss.” Tony’s calm, focused tones interrupted the train of Tim’s thoughts. Tim looked from Tony to Gibbs – who just quirked an eyebrow at him – and back to Tony. It was so strange to hear himself addressed as ‘Boss’ by Tony. “Where do we start?”


End file.
